


The Womanwoman

by Dragonlitterchanger



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BDSM, Double Penetration, First Time, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonlitterchanger/pseuds/Dragonlitterchanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock screamed. The woman smiled. A loud rumbling noise was heard followed by a quick scramble from the kitchen and John stormed into the room, brandishing a wooden spoon."</p><p>Mostly fun. Mostly porn. Hints at a plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Womanwoman

 

 

“We have a client,” Sherlock said dryly to John.

He had known she was alive, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she would look him up. Yet not like this. Why did the damned woman always manage to do just exactly that which he had not expected? There wasn’t a mark on the door. Not a dust speck out of place.  A faint scent in the air that could have been John’s aftershave. Nothing to indicate how she had gained entrance, yet there she lay, looking as innocent as a babe, tucked into his bed, looking small and vulnerable in the oversized green sweatshirt she must have dug out of the bottom of his cupboard.

“What? We have a client in your bedroom?” John asked as he sauntered in with a beer in his hand. “Oh!” was the profoundly deep comment from him as he gazed at the sleeping beauty. He grinned and gestured for Sherlock to follow him out of the room, closing the door gently behind them.

“There’s a woman in your bed, Sherlock,” he sniggered as they entered the living room. “Words I’d never thought I would hear spoken. I must call Mycroft.” He reached for his phone, tittering.

“You will do no such thing.” Sherlock slapped John’s hand, and the phone landed in his chair, followed a second later by Sherlock as he threw himself down, sitting quite comfortably and securely on the phone. His long legs were sticking out in front of him, causing John to negotiate them like a game of obstacles to make his way to his own chair, still sniggering to himself.

“Why is she here? Why _is_ she here?” Sherlock had spoken out loud, but the question was for himself, not for John, which John knew and consequently stayed silent. In only seconds Sherlock started to deliver the answers himself.

“She’s obviously threatened. She’s hiding out. She has brought nothing. She needs my help, but for what? There could be eight, no seven reasons she’s here. She must know I am not about to hand her camera phone back to her. Would she try anyway?” he mused.   
“Well, she is…” John began, but was silenced by a stare from Sherlock.  
“Don’t be silly, John. Of course, she isn’t,” he countered.  
“But I didn’t even finish… never mind.” John gave up trying to make sense out of Sherlock since he was apparently wandering in his mind palace or, more likely, lost in it. He trotted off to make a pot of tea.

It was nearly one and a half hours later when Sherlock spoke again. “Well, we won’t get any finite answers till she is awake in the morning. It’s getting late anyway, so I’m off to bed. Thanks for the tea.” He gestured to the empty cups, and got out of his chair.

“Where are you going to sleep?” John wondered, putting aside the newspaper he’d been reading.   
“In my bed.”  
“…but?” John quacked.   
“But what?”  
“It’s… occupado.” John made a face, and inclined his head towards the bedroom.  
“She’s not that big.” Sherlock shrugged.  
“She’s a woman, Sherlock. So much so, that you called her the womanwoman. Are you sure you can handle her?” The doubt was thick in John’s voice.  
“Handle her?” Sherlock snorted. “Why shouldn’t I be able to handle her? She’s tiny and she has no interest in men. She’s gay, remember? I know you know what gay means.”  
“Of course I, err, hang on, no. What do you mean by that?” John was almost sure he should be offended.  
“I mean goodnight, John. See you in the morning.” And with those parting words he disappeared into his room, getting ready for the night.

\--- oo ---

True to his word, Sherlock slunk into his bed, finding ample room for his lanky body as well as hers. He didn’t even notice that he snuggled up to her as he dozed off, one arm lazily thrown over her. He’d had a teddy bear for a brief while as a kid. This reminded him vaguely of the warm comfort it had brought in the darkness of the night, and he slept soundly and deeply.

He woke, too late. He felt the cold of the steel before he felt the pressure against his wrists. He only needed to pull once to know how thorough she had been. The cuffs were fastened with something, he assumed all his belts were involved, to the legs of his sturdy bed, and swung over the frame. His arms were immovable.

“Let’s have dinner,” she whispered, when she sensed his awareness. She was seated on the side of the bed, her back turned to him, the green sweater gone and replaced by nothing.  
“I’m not hungry,” he answered grimly.  
“Let’s have dinner anyway. I insist. I only drugged you very lightly this time, so you shouldn’t have any nausea or feel any drowsiness.” She was rummaging around in something. He could not make it out clearly in the dark, but it looked like a small silk purse. At least that was what the rustling of the fabric told his sensitive ears.

He saw her shoulders rise a little as she laughed quietly, placing some small items on the bed next to her. A quick glance down his body revealed that his pyjama bottoms were gone, and his top unbuttoned and ineffectually lying down his sides. “ _Don’t worry_ ,” he told himself. “ _She can do nothing to arouse me. A man cannot be used against his will. Certainly not I. Just relax and think of something uplifting. The latest murder case, yes, I’ll go over the details of that,”_ he decided.

“I bet you have set your mind a task to ignore me”, she turned around slowly to face him. “Feel free to ignore away, I will amuse myself with this little birthday present”. Her hand disappeared between his legs and he thought very hard about the blood pattern that had been smeared on the wall at the crime scene as he felt something tightening around his balls. As usual she did what he had not expected. “ _Damn the woman_ ”, he thought and then thought better of it and went back to the blood spatter.

“I have a friend, who has told me all about you. ‘The virgin’, he calls you. That, I find irresistible. I must act on it; I know you can see why. I love virgins. I love keeping them virgins for as long as possible while I play. This little thong will ensure that you do not come before my fun is over. “

He allowed himself a small smirk at the fact that she had obviously not counted on him being so disinterested. His member hadn’t even stirred at her attentions, and he knew his mind was strong enough to hold her ministrations back. She had nothing to fear, he had no intention of coming. He wasn’t even going to her party, he thought.

He saw, but ignored, the small vial in her hand, and went back to the room in his head where he was analysing the case. Ignored her as she emptied it into her other hand, and gasped for air as a drowning man when she rubbed the oil thoroughly onto the head of his penis. It burned. It itched. No, it was warm and soft. “ _No, silly, it’s ice cold_ ,” his mind retorted, but his cock disagreed and swelled to ridiculous proportions, his mind no longer having a say in the matter as she gently rubbed the oil in.

“There, all better on that front. Were you worried that you would not get it up for me?” she smiled the sweet smile of a prowling jaguar. “Odd, how men tend to forget that I am a professional. I can make you do anything, Sherlock, and I will.”

_If he had not been so busy second-guessing his own findings and timing while John and Gerhard, George, Gavin, Greg, Germany… whoever, had been discussing motives, he might have shivered._

“Now for your pleasure.” She repositioned herself on the bed.  “I bet you think lube is something only used in engines. I certainly could not find any here, so you will have to settle for my hand cream. Comfort yourself with the fact that you will be soft as a baby’s bottom for a while.” She rubbed an object in her hand and fast as lightning bent over him, and in no time at all had inserted something hard and slightly cold deep inside him. The crime scene dissolved, and large cracks appeared on the walls of his mind palace. He clung to the image, conjuring up repair men who desperately slapped concrete on them. “It’s remote controlled, and the smallest one on the market, so don’t whimper”, she directed him. “But most men forget they have a … pleasure spot inside, and I bet virgins didn’t ever know they had it,” she smiled again, a little sweeter this time.

“ _No, she is not crawling up your body, and even if she is, she is not a praying mantis, so stop being silly and analyse that… that… that…”_ He winced as he heard a sound escape his lips. _“_ Ouch!”  
  
“Oh. Did I bite? I am sorry, I do find nipples absolutely irresistible, and yours are particularly yummy. We must include them in the game. What have you got around here?”

She looked around the room, and quickly dismissed its contents. “I’ll find nothing useful here, but maybe in that lab of yours, huh? Watson sleeps upstairs, right? I won’t run into him in the kitchen?” She was met by his thundering silence, so she just wandered stark naked into the kitchen and returned in triumph only minutes later.  
  
“Clamps! You actually had clamps out there.” She said delighted waving them about. “I bet you are using them for something boring like holding up gas supply tubes for Bunsen burners… or, hang on, that may not be so boring at all, but perhaps not for your first time?” She grinned and crawled back on the bed, straddling his chest while cradling two small, metal clamps. She bent down to suck and chew on his right nipple, which responded as right nipples do to such ministrations, and when quite pleased with its size, she placed the clamp firmly around it, assuring a constant and just slightly painful pressure. She continued the process on his left nipple and Sherlock hired in 800 repair men and set them to work.

“Now for my pleasure,” she said as she reached for her silk purse and drew out a small device. “I designed this one myself,” she said proudly as she turned it on and a small buzzing sound filled the room. Before he could even begin to think about how much mortar would be needed to fix the window frames, and how many of the 800 that could do proper stucco work, she had moved down his body, grabbed his cock and inserted it, slowly descending on it while she held the little vibrator against her clitoris. “Oh, yes. I do like a virgin,” she exhaled.

“ _This is fun_ ,” she thought to herself. “ _I wonder_ _if he’s aware of how responsive his body is_. “  She leaned forwards a bit and whispered to him. “This is silly, dear boy. Stop pretending you’re not here. You are very much here.  The effect of that oil only lasts a minute. You are keeping your cock this hard at your own behest. You should let your mind enjoy what your body is revelling in. Or don’t. As long as I can have this.” Still ignored, she rocked back on her heels and sped her pace up a bit. Using her left hand to spread her lips so her right could get better access to her clitoris, the buzzing became more intense, and her breathing became very laboured. For a long while nothing was heard but those two sounds, till she started whimpering instead. “I must, can’t, won’t, wait,” she moaned out loud just before she came, riding him just a little faster for an intense ten seconds that made the foreman roar for a raise for the whole gang, or they would walk out.

 _  
“Was this it?”_ he thought when his mind was in full control of its faculties again. _“I did it. I did not succumb. It’s over. She’ll let me go, and I can get back to sleep. On the couch this time, I think. Maybe a quick shower first.”_

“That was not particularly pleasurable,” he was glad to inform her, feeling in control again, now that it was all over.  
  
“Dear boy, this was not designed for your pleasure. That was for me.  Why do you think I didn’t let you come?” she sighed.  
  
_“Didn’t let me? She didn’t let me? How can she control…. Oh, those darn leather straps. Really? That’s how it works? Really?”_ His mind reeled towards desperation, and he bitterly regretted that he had spoken too soon and granted her access to the front rooms of his mind.   
  
“Now, are you ready for your special treat?” she asked in that infuriatingly raspy voice of hers.  
  
“No. I will have none of this. I am not interested.” he insisted, trying not to see her broad ironic smile, “I will call out for John,” he threatened, a small edge of fear almost discernible in his voice.  
  
“Oh, I do hope so.” She smiled, not putting him at ease at all. “How about doing it now?” she suggested as she swung her left leg over him and moved away from his body. She got out of the bed and looked down at him. “Beautiful. I’ve done my work well; he’ll appreciate this, I think.” She bent down and reached between his legs, grabbed the leather straps and twisted them roughly.  
  
Sherlock screamed. The woman smiled. A loud rumbling noise was heard followed by a quick scramble from the kitchen and John stormed into the room, brandishing a wooden spoon.  
  
“WHAT are you…? I’ll cut you, if you…! I’ll… what the fuck? Sherlock…what are you… No. What have you done? What HAVE you done, woman?”  John breathed as a man fresh back from a semi-marathon as he stopped dead in his tracks by the bed. He could not believe what he saw. In the stream of light from the door he could make out every detail of Sherlock as he had never thought to find him. The glistening sweat that covered his shivering body from head to toe, the taught nipples caught in clamps, the shining handcuffs, the gleaming eyes, the pupils fully dilated, the sweaty curls trapped on his brow, the leather strap, a… a …what-IS-that between his legs, and a cock that he couldn’t figure out the origin off. Had Sherlock really carried that around in his pants every day? Without stumbling?

“John,” Sherlock moaned. “Help me!”  
  
“Yes, John, do help him. He’ll never manage to come without you,” the woman agreed. “He can’t do anything without you and certainly not something as big as this. Losing his virginity, spectacularly.”  
  
“Me? No, I…“ John said, his mouth trying to be polite while his body was taking him in a very different direction. He shocked himself with his next question. “How?”  
  
“Well, since you are both clearly not gay, ( _If they believe that, I’m even better than I thought,_ she thought), I think I have better be involved. The middle man so to speak. And don’t worry boys, I am a professional. I can take it.” Again with that smile, but at least this time it brought some relief as she nimbly and painlessly removed the leather strap from his balls, producing a shivering sigh from Sherlock. So loud in fact, that he thought it was his fucking phone getting a text. The emotions that flooded him were as unanticipated as everything else she had ever done to him. In a fraction of an instant he understood the meaning of every terminology he had ever heard describing the state of horny, and how effective that little piece of leather had been.

“I think you are ready for us now, don’t you?” she whispered as she climbed back onto the bed, straddling him in one swift move and lowering herself on his cock till it was buried inside her. Sherlock heard the moans escaping him, but they were almost beyond his control now. The 800 had left him alone, and sent John instead. She laid down on him, as flat as she could get, and called out to John. “Get on top of me, and inside. There’s room for you both, and he needs to feel you. Now, John! He won’t last long.”

Her commanding voice had its effect on the ex-soldier and he discarded his t-shirt and boxers, with some difficulty, on the floor as he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself. “Just…in?” he asked a bit doubtful.

“Just like that, yes. Slide your cock in next to his, make him feel you. I’m afraid you will be doing most of the work, but you’re used to that by now.“ She closed her eyes as she felt John comply, and just for a few seconds allowed herself to take time out to adjust to the pain, and turn it to pleasure in her mind. After all, this part was not for her pleasure, but for theirs.  Two deep voices groaned long and intensely as John pushed into her, and then paused, only heavy breathing revealing that there was something deeply passionate going on in the room.

“John… oh!” Sherlock moaned, surprised at how soft the skin of the other man’s cock felt against his. How gentle this violence was. How sweet his murder. How much he was gaining by this loss.  
  
“I think he likes it, John,” she smiled, “let’s move on. Remember I told you it was remote controlled, Sherlock?” she said as she reached under the pillow and withdrew a little box with buttons. She deftly pressed two of them a number of times, and Sherlock screamed in a range his voice had never produced before. This spurred John into a frenzy of action, and he pumped in and out of her in a desperate race to catch up to Sherlock who looked to be experiencing utter pleasure for the first time in his life.

John could not believe the array of sounds that were coming out of Sherlock. It was almost enough to make him come, and it didn’t help that he also looked pretty damn hot, as his body was attempting impossible arches up against the two bodies above him. And still he seemed to be fighting for control.

She was rather pleased with the progress. “You are both doing… very good,” she sighed as she clung to Sherlock’s chest, trying to find some skin to nibble on, but he kept moving so damn much. She knew he could not last much longer, so she set in her final moves. Lifting herself as much as possible, she got her hands in between them and removed the nipple clamps from Sherlock. She couldn’t really tell if the moan was of relief or loss, but she knew what would happen when she turned the remote controlled dildo up to max. She threw herself down and held on to the poor man, feeding on their sounds and moves, ready to reel in her triumph.

“Sherlock, please... I can’t keep this up. Let it go, come with me? Relinquish control, just for once?” John pleaded as he rammed into the woman, pushing against Sherlock with every move, feeling the silken, velvety texture of the rock hard member as acutely as was it his own. He sped up, hoping to take Sherlock with him over the edge.

Sherlock’s eyes flew wide open, and he stared at him. “John. John? John! I… yes. Yes. I am… and you…?” The rest of the words disintegrated into nonsense as Sherlock threw his head back and emitted a series of guttural staccato sounds as he writhed under them, feeling the first complete and utter lack of control as he spiralled into his first orgasm. John followed, as usual, never many steps behind Sherlock and he collapsed, utterly spent, on top of both of them.

A long, but comfortable period of catching breaths followed in the now very warm room.

After a while she wriggled out between them, and slipped out of the bed to go sleep on the couch. “I’ll get you an ice cube for His Nibs’ nipples, he’s going to need that.”  
  
“Aren’t you going to unlock those?” John nodded at the handcuffs, and then nestled his heavy head on Sherlock’s shoulder, too tired to bother with the sweaty state of the both of them.  
  
“It isn’t locked. “She pursed her lips and blew them a kiss.  
  
“I know.”

 

 

 

 

 

END 


End file.
